


Yesterday

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Explicit Language, Friendship, Post-Hogwarts, The Quidditch Pitch: Leaving Feast
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-04
Updated: 2006-09-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 01:25:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10798836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: The war is at it's height and Hermione Granger, head of the Magical Warfare Coalition, has only thing on her mind. . . Getting to see her boyfriend, General Ron Weasley for Christmas.A prequel toA Hero's Return.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

There were times when Hermione really hated her job.

As the sun set on Christmas Eve and Hermione found herself staring at the streaks of crimson spreading over the otherwise gray sky, she realized that this was one of those times.

“General Ron Weasley’s camp has moved south. He’s stationed here and as you can see he’s got Death Eater camps directly to the east and west of him. Miss Granger? Are you listening?”

Hermione turned from the window, still feeling distracted, but she forced herself to focus on the briefing. “Yes, I’m sorry, Henry. Go on.”

He stopped staring at her and went back to the large map of Europe that took up one whole wall in Hermione’s office.

“This is General Charlie Weasley’s camp.” Using his wand, Henry made a red dot appear near a fellow red dot. Both were surrounded by several black dots. “You’ll see he’s close to his brother’s camp. They plan on joining forces and if everything goes as planned, will meet up on Boxing Day. With our two largest camps on the job we should have the enemy beaten back by New Year’s. From there, we’ve got these three camps stationed here, here and here.” Hermione watched as three more dots appeared on the map that she was now studying intently. “They all serve under General Ron Weasley, who plans to have them follow him across the channel so they can help out our lads in France. The rest of his troops will remain behind to help his brother’s troops in England.”

Hermione nodded, trying to study the map impartially, but knowing that the red dots represented people she loved made that impossible. She tapped the dot representing Ron’s camp with her forefinger. “Boxing day? What are they supposed to do until then?”

“Hold their ground,” Henry said solemnly. “He’s faced worse, Miss Granger.”

“I know,” she sighed, finding that she was caressing the dot almost lovingly and pulled her hand back in embarrassment. “And you say he’s heading to France after that?”

“Yes, that was his plan.”

Hermione studied France, which was littered with black dots. “Who is stationed in France right now?”

“We’ve got Major Dargen’s unit her. We’ve got Major Caron here.” Hermione looked at the two dots, feeling sorry for the faceless men they represented. “Both camps have been under heavy fire. Also, Colonel Thomas is here and has reported heavy losses.”

“Poor Dean” she said, seeing that Dean Thomas’ camp was surrounded by Death Eaters. “He’s in for a horrible holiday.

“I’m sorry, miss?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Hermione said, rubbing at her temples for a second. “So, basically what you’re telling me is that Ron plans to jump out of the frying pan into the fire.” At his quizzical look, she rephrased the question. “He’s going from a bad situation to one that’s worse.”

“Yes, essentially, that’s what I’m saying,” he said, looking a bit uncomfortable when Hermione’s face fell. “We’re getting slaughtered in France, Miss Granger”

“I know.”

“We need the man power.”

“I know.”

“He’s our best General.”

“I know!” She snapped and turned back to stare at the map, mentally counting the Death Eater camps in France, but stopped when she went past fifteen. They were hopelessly outnumbered. “Ron, you idiot.”

“These are his plans, Miss Granger,” Henry said, obviously hating his roll as messenger. “I’m simply relaying them to you.”

Hermione turned to look out the window again. It had started snowing, the sunset now completely blocked by the clouds and she sighed miserably to herself. “Happy Christmas.”

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing,” Hermione said, shaking her head again. “Henry, do you think we can continue this meeting later. Are you taking off for the holiday?”

“No, miss,” Henry said sadly. “The war doesn’t stop for Christmas.”

“It certainly doesn’t,” Hermione agreed as she studied the dot that represented Ron’s camp again. She wondered what he was doing now, in the dreadful cold, surrounded by enemies. It’d been too long since she’d seen him. She missed him terribly and worried over him and Harry constantly. Why did they always end up in the thick of it all? “I need to go, Henry.”

Obviously shocked at the abrupt change in conversation, he said, “Do you mind if I ask where you’re going?”

Hermione turned to him, flashing him a smile as she made her decision. “I’m going to see my boyfriend for Christmas.”

He paled. “They’re under heavy fire right now.”

“I realize that,” Hermione said as she grabbed his cloak from the coat rack in the corner.

“You simply can’t go out there,” he said, now panicked as Hermione took several packages out of the closet and started casting shrinking charms on them. “You’re an extremely important woman.”

“Which is why I’ll be able to get a Portkey on Christmas Eve,” Hermione said as she put the shrunken packages into the pockets of her robes. “My job does have some perks.”

“Think of our National Security.”

“It’s Christmas, Henry,” Hermione said as she turned to him and arched an eyebrow. “Take the day off. Spend time with your wife before she tosses you out in the cold.”

“A day off,” he rasped, looking as if the idea was totally foreign to him.

“Yes, and that’s a direct order,” Hermione said, flashing him another grin. “I like you, Henry. I’d hate to fire you. Now go home and enjoy the holiday. I’ll see you on Boxing Day.”

“Boxing Day?” he said, still very baffled. “Are you sure?”

“I’m positive,” Hermione said, walking out the door without a backwards glance. “Happy Christmas, Henry.”

 

 

~*~

 

Hermione wasn’t one to make decisions rashly, but once she made a decision she almost always went through with it. While her job may allow her the freedom to do what she pleased, that didn’t mean that people liked it. Henry wasn’t the only one who threw a fit over Hermione leaving and in the end she agreed to take a small band of security officers with her. Which seemed silly considering she was going to Ron’s camp that was filled to the brim with soldiers. She didn’t know what her security detail was supposed to do that Ron’s soldiers could not. But, Hermione was a politician and she knew that the key to getting things done was compromise. So she compromised and took the security detail with her without complaint.

She left the soldiers in the kitchen of she and Ron’s house, telling them they were free to help themselves to whatever food they could find, but warning them that she had very little that was edible. Ron was the cook and he hadn’t been home in three months. When he was gone, Hermione survived on carry out and the charity of Ron’s mother, who would often come over while Hermione was working and leave dinner sitting on the dinning-room table.

Thanking the Gods that the Floo network was working for once, she contacted St. Mungo’s from the fireplace in her bedroom, hastily packing a small bag while she waited for them to find Ginny.

When Ginny’s face appeared in the fire, Hermione saw that she was exhausted. Stands of red hair escaped her hastily done ponytail and her eyes had dark circles beneath them that spoke volumes about the grueling hours she put in at St. Mungo’s. Being a healer during war time was a difficult job and Hermione didn’t envy Ginny for it.

“Make it fast,” Ginny said, sounding out of breath. “This place is mad house.”

“Can you get take off tonight and tomorrow?”

Ginny laughed incredulously. “I wish!”

“It’s Christmas.”

“So,” she said, pulling a face at Hermione. “Do people stop getting sick or injured on Christmas?”

“I’m going to see the Knight,” Hermione said, using Ron’s code name in case the Floo network was being monitored. “I thought you might like to come.”

“Oh, you’re awful!” Ginny gasped as a look of longing spread over her face. “You know it’s been ages since I’ve seen the Phoenix.”

“Make it happen, Ginny,” Hermione said solemnly. “This may be your last chance for a very long time.”

Ginny gnawed at her bottom lip for a second and then whispered, “How long have I got?”

“Ten’s the magic hour,” Hermione said warningly. “It’s the last Portkey out. They won’t be making new ones until Boxing Day and by then it’ll be too late.”

“O-okay. I think I can make it, but just barely,” she said, giving a huge sigh of exhaustion. “Promise you’ll wait for me.”

“I’ll wait until ten.”

“You’re a love,” Ginny said excitedly. “I’ll be there.”

Hermione smiled at her. “Good!”

 

 

It was five minutes until ten when Ginny finally arrived, looking even more hassled than she had easier.

“I owled mum,” Ginny said as she brushed the hair out her eyes. Hermione saw that she was still wearing her healer’s robes and her hair was in the same messy ponytail. It was obvious that she had barely made it, but Hermione was relieved she had. “I didn’t have a chance to pack anything. So I’ll have to borrow some clothes.”

“I packed extra, just in case,” Hermione assured her. “Was your mum angry?”

“Dunno,” Ginny said as she brushed at her robes that were stained and dirty. “God, I look horrid.”

“You look fine.”

Ginny nodded, laughing incredulously. “You could have warned me that you’d have this lot with you.”

Hermione turned to look at the security soldiers, who all seemed a bit apprehensive about the trip. She felt mildly guilty for pulling them so far from home on Christmas, but they had assured her that they would have been working anyway and it wasn’t bother.

“It was the only way I could get a Portkey,” Hermione sighed. “Ron’s camp is in the middle of a hot spot. We’re lucky to be going at all.”

“How bad is it?” Ginny asked in concern.

“The reports say it’s pretty bad,” Hermione said and then checked her watch. “We’ve got to go.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Sir!”

Ron turned from the map he was looking at to stare at Private Collins. “Yes?”

“We’ve got soldiers coming in from the north,” he said breathlessly. “They’re under heavy fire.”

Ron turned back to the map. He studied it for a second and then turned back to the private in confusion. “We haven’t got any soldiers to the north.”

“They said they were Phoenix soldiers, sir.”

“It could be a trick,” Harry said, rising from his seat in the corner of the strategy tent. “This place is red hot.”

“Agreed,” Ron said, and then grabbed his cloak off the chair. “Collins, run ahead. Tell the lads to give them cover, but to be on guard. I don’t care if it’s their brother out there, keep them at wand point and don’t say shit to them until we get there.”

“Yes, sir,” Collins said and then took off without being dismissed.

Ron and Harry were right behind him, both of them hastily buttoning their cloaks up against the blistering cold. It was snowing again and the moral in camp was low. The holidays were always a hard time to be a solider. Everyone missed home a little bit more on Christmas. It didn’t help that it was bloody cold out and they had been under fire all day. He had hated to do it, but he had men out to the east and west of them to hold back the Death Eaters who didn’t seem to give a shit that it was Christmas Eve.

His boots crunched heavily in the snow and Harry was jogging to keep up with Ron’s long steps. When they reached the north end of the camp, Ron had to squint into the blackness, but he saw the bight flashes of hexes glowing in the night.

“How many men have we got out there?” he asked Major McConnel who had been manning the soldiers while Ron and Harry worked out the final details of their journey into France. Which was still up in the air, because they had to get out of England first.

“Fifteen, sir.”

Seeing more hexes, he said, “Send ten more. The Death Eaters don’t hex their own. There’s someone out there who needs backup.”

“What idiot would be out in this mess?” Harry said as he also squinted into the darkness. “Everyone knows this place is under fire.”

“I don’t know,” Ron sighed. “But, we’ve got Death Eaters out there that we didn’t know about. That means we’re surrounded on three sides. Damn, I wish Charlie wasn’t two days out. We can’t do anything but sit here until he shows up. We just don’t have the man power to take them all out by ourselves.”

Ron was still pondering his mounting problems when a group of soldiers made it back into camp. Chaos burst around them instantly. It was hard to tell in the madness, but it seemed that the soldiers who’d just come in were arguing passionately with those who were still stationed in camp. It wasn’t until a shrill voice carried over the arguing that it started to make sense.

“Damnit, I’m a healer and I’ve got injured men here! Back off!”

“Bloody hell!” Harry cursed, voicing Ron’s thoughts out loud as he ran forward, pushing his way past the soldiers who were blocking their view of what was happening.

“General Weasley gave firm orders to keep them at wand point. It doesn’t matter if she’s your sister, don’t let her move.”

“That is my sister, boy!” Ron bellowed over the crowd. “Now back up!”

Ron’s voice rang in the air and the arguing stopped. The soldiers obediently spread out, clearing the way for Ron. He’d heard her voice, but he still wasn’t prepared to see her. Ginny was being held by two of his soldiers, struggling against their hold indignantly. Beside her, Ron saw two security soldiers from the ministry. Both of them were obviously injured, but still standing on their feet with the help of his soldiers who were holding them captive like Ginny.

“Tell these idiots to let me go!” Ginny snapped at Harry, who had made it to her first. “Three of Hermione’s men are injured. One is critical!”

“Let her go,” Harry said and Ginny immediately fell to ground, leaning over a man who was bleeding badly. Harry kneeled down next her. “I need your code name, Gin.”

“Bugger off,” Ginny said to him, not looking up from what she was doing. “I’m not changing it again.”

“Your code name,” he insisted.

Ginny huffed, brushing her hair away from her face but still not looking away from the man she was helping. “Pigmy Puff.”

“Where’s Hermione?” Ron asked, feeling icy terror spread over him as he stood next to Ginny and Harry. “You said these are Hermione’s men. Where is she?”

“She’s still out there and these idiots wouldn’t let the men back out to help her,” Ginny said desperately, finally looking up from what she was doing. “We had injured. I had to go first. I’m sorry!”

Ron took off, sprinting out of the camp without a second thought. He didn’t even order the band of soldiers to follow him. Obviously sensing the urgency of the issue, they did it without being told. Ginny had dropped Hermione’s name and she was well known and well liked by all the troops. It was little wonder a fight had broken out considering the men who’d been fighting knew it was Hermione Granger out there.

They may admire her, but none of his men had the motivation Ron did. His terror was so great that the adrenaline rush allowed him to easily pass a few soldiers who had broke away from the chaos at camp to get back to Hermione. He had never run so fast and he was surprised to see that the soldiers he passed were out of sight behind him, which left him decidedly vulnerable once he reached the fighting. It was hard to make everything out in the darkness, but fortunately the Death Eaters masks under the pale moonlight, which made it easy to tell his men from them. He was disappointed to see that their side was currently outnumbered.

“General Weasley!” one of the men hollered into the night and Ron knew it was his height more than anything that gave him away. “We’ve got--”

“I know who you’ve got,” he yelled back, not wanting Hermione’s identify reveled. Killing her would be a huge coup for Voldemort. “Hold tight! We’ve got backup coming.”

It was sheer luck that got Ron to her. He’d dodged three hexes, and delivered a few of his own before he made it to the protective cover of rocks that Hermione was hiding behind.

Hermione dashed to him, wrapping her arms around his neck desperately, her whole body shaking in shock. “House Elf!”

“Red Knight,” he said breathlessly and held her tight for a few seconds before he pulled away. “Have you lost your fucking mind? What the hell are you doing here?”

“There weren’t supposed to be any Death Eaters to the north,” she said shakily. “Did Ginny make it to the camp?”

“She’s safe,” Ron said, looking around and seeing that a painfully small group of soldiers stayed behind to help Hermione. The rest had gone back with Ginny, who had needed the extra cover to get Hermione’s injured security officers into camp. “Why are you still here?”

“They couldn’t cover all of us,” Hermione said, her voice shaking from the cold. “I told them to get the injured men back to camp and then come back for me. I’m not a Healer. Ginny had to go first.”

“Christ,” Ron said, as fury burst inside of him at the thought of what could have happened. “You take priority, Hermione. You’re the one those security officers are supposed to be protecting. You should have gone back first, not them! I’m going to have their arses for abandoning their posts like this!”

“Ron, they were injured!” she snapped at him. “They were injured protecting us.”

“I don’t give a shit,” he roared. “You could have been killed! There’s what--” He stopped to count the men hiding in the rocks above them. Two were Hermione’s security, but the rest were his men. “Six men left to cover you. There’s triple that in Death Eaters out there and those were the ones I could see!”

“They were injured,” she said again, this time more firmly.

“Soldiers fight injured. If they are still on their feet, they should be fighting. Those men were still on their feet, Hermione. I saw them with my own two eyes.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, and then wrapped her arms around his waist. “I just wanted to see you before you went to France.”

Hermione was shivering from the cold, and obviously very shaken. Ron used his cloak to cover both of them and breathed a sigh of relief. He was furious, but at least Hermione was alive and uninjured. He could deal with everything else once he got her back to camp.

It started snowing harder and Ron heard his soldiers approach before he saw them through the flurry. He really had made good time in reaching Hermione and he marveled at just how fast his feet had carried him. He’d been a good five minutes ahead of the others and some of those he had bypassed on his flight towards Hermione. It might take him the rest of the night to find his breath again, but he was relieved that he had made it to her as quickly as he had.

“Okay,” Ron said, pulling away from Hermione and leaning down to talk to her over the noise of battle. “The lads are going to cover us, but we’re really going to have to move, Hermione. Are you up for it?”

 “I’m ready,” she said, but then bit at her lip hesitantly. “But, I don’t want of your men injured because of me.”

“This whole area is under fire,” Ron said, wanting to get her focused on her own safety and not the soldiers. “They’d be fighting anyway. That’s what we do, love.”

Hermione nodded silently and Ron decided that it would have to do. He left her to some the first of soldiers to make it to the safety of the rocks. He climbed up to get a better view of the fighting and saw that the power was swiftly switching hands. They had the Death Eaters out numbered now and more of his soldiers were coming.

Ron jumped down from the rocks and addressed the soldiers waiting for his command. “You lot,” he said, gesturing to a group of soldiers to his right. “I want you covering me while I get Hermione back to camp. The rest of you help out our boys already out there and take care of these bastards. Forget the gifts, I want a whole bloody collection of Death Eaters for Christmas! Show them what we’re made of and those fuckers won’t know what hit ‘em!”

They answered back in chorus. “Yes, sir!”

“Good show,” Ron said, grinning at them before he met Hermione’s eyes, seeing that she was looking at him disapprovingly. “What?”

“I don’t think you should swear,” she said, turning around to look at the soldiers. “They look up to you. You should set a better example.”

Ron couldn’t help it, he laughed. They were in the middle this mess and Hermione was worrying about his bad language. He grabbed the robe of a solider near him, pulling him closer. “Private, tell my girl what kind of example I set.”

“A brilliant one, sir!” he said enthusiastically.

“You see that,” Ron said, nodding towards Hermione. “A brilliant one! You Lieutenant, tell her what you think.”

“I think you set an excellent example, sir,” said the lieutenant to his left. “You’re the finest commander I’ve ever had the pleasure to serve under.”

“He’s probably the only one you’ve served under,” Hermione said dryly and then looked up at Ron. “Are you finished?”

Ron laughed again. “Yeah, lets get the hell out of here.”

“Ronald!”

“Who wears the trousers, sir?” one of the boys from the back called, making all the soldiers laugh at Ron’s expense.

“She does,” Ron said without skipping a beat. “This is the woman who signs our paychecks, lads. So you better make sure her pretty arse is covered!”

They were unanimous in their enthusiastic agreement. “Yes, sir!”

 

~*~

“Do you think that injured security solider is okay?”

Ron turned from stroking the fire in his office to look at Hermione, who was curled into the large winged back leather chair behind his desk. Her long hair was wet with melting snow, her cheeks were flushed bright pink from the cold, her lips red and tempting, but Ron knew she was still very shaken from her ordeal.

“He’s fine,” Ron assured her, abandoning the fire to go back to Hermione when he saw she was still shivering. Kneeling in front of her, he started to make quick work of untying her shoes. “I’ve got four good healers on tonight.”

“Do you think Ginny’s still with him?”

“Probably.” Ron chuckled as he set Hermione’s shoes aside and tugged off her socks. “How hacked off would Harry be if she spent the whole night in the Hospital tent?”

“I feel responsible,” she said, flexing her foot under Ron’s fingers. “Oh, that’s lovely. I always forget how warm your hands are.”

“And I forget how cold your feet can get. Blimey, I think you’re giving me frostbite.” Hermione gave him a little laugh when he let go of her foot and shook his hand, faking pain. But she quickly grew serious again, a frown marring her features. “Come on, love. Cheer up. It’s Christmas.”

She brushed the foot Ron wasn’t massaging back and forth over his thigh. “I know. I just wanted to see you. I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt.”

“There’s no way you could have known there were Death Eaters to the north. Hell, we didn’t even know. If anything, you did us a favor, even if you did risk life and limb to get here. My heart is still beating the shit out of my ribs. I could strangle you for being so bloody rash. ”

Hermione laughed incredulously. “That’s the pot calling the kettle black. I can’t believe you’re going to France. That whole country is red hot.”

“That’s why we’re going,” Ron said, unable to hide a smirk as he dropped her foot and picked up the one that was still trailing over the inside of this thigh lovingly. “This is what we do, remember?”

“You keep saying that,” Hermione sighed, resting her cheek on the palm of her hand. “Why can’t someone else go?”

Ron looked up at her seriously. “Hermione, you know the statistics better than anyone. My men are better trained. They’ve been at this longer. Charlie’s still trying to recover from all those losses in Italy. Most of his men are new and still green.”

“We’ve got Dean over there.”

Ron gave her a look of annoyance. She was pretending to be ignorant about the issue, which was ridiculous. She probably had intelligence that he didn’t. “He’s getting slaughtered over there. Stop playing stupid. You know I’m the one who has to go.”

“You’re such an imbecile!” she snapped at him. “I don’t know why you always have to be right in the middle of everything.”

“I live for the excitement,” he said dryly.

“I know you don’t stay in camp like you’re supposed to. I know you’re always out in the fields like you were tonight,” she said accusingly.

“The men wouldn’t respect me if I wasn’t.”

“I don’t care if they respect you!” Hermione snapped as she kicked out at him, her foot connecting with the center of his chest. “You’re going to get yourself killed!”

Her kick didn’t hurt, but he fell backwards anyway, clutching at his chest dramatically. “Oh, to die in battle. Every soldiers dream!”

“You stupid prat,” she said, jumping up from the chair and landing on top of him. She smacked at his chest and arms. “I don’t know why I hooked up with an idiot like you!”

“Because you think I’m dead sexy,” Ron said, laughing as she kept hitting him. He tired to reflect her halfhearted hits, but it was too funny to be bothered with. “Hey, don’t damage the goods.”

“Stupid, stupid!’ Hermione said, smacking at his chest and laughing as hard as him. They were both completely breathless, but Hermione still smacked at his shoulders as Ron feigned injury. “You’re insane! I should lock you up!”

“Don’t say that too loud. You’ll ruin your pristine reputation. All my men will how kinky you really are.”

“Idiot,” she said, finally collapsing on him because she was laughing too hard to hit.

“What’d you bring me for Christmas?”

“A lump of coal!”

“That wasn’t what I wrote Father Christmas for,” Ron said, faking confusion. “I’m pretty sure I asked for my girlfriend, preferably wearing something lacy and red.” He tugged at the collar to her robes. “Is it under here?”

She smacked at his hand. “They’re cotton and white.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” Ron said, lifting his head and trying to peer down the neckline of her robes when he pulled at them again. “I’m not picky.”

“You’re such a moron,” Hermione said, laughing again.

“I know, but you love me anyway,” Ron said, grinning up at her.

Hermione smiled back at him, her fingers coming up to trace his jaw line. “I suppose so.”

“Tell me you missed me like mad.”

“I missed you like mad,” she whispered, her fingers trailing across his face until they were running over his bottom lip. “Happy?”

“Not yet.”

Ron leaned up, capturing her mouth with his. Hermione moaned, her lips parting to him and he thrust his tongue into her mouth, savoring her taste, the feel of her laying over him with her fingers tangled in his hair. It had been too bloody long and he had missed Hermione with every breath he had taken since he’d last seen her.  

“General?”

Ron pulled away with a groan, unable to believe that there was a solider outside his office door. He hadn’t seen Hermione in two months and this bloke chose now to show up. He wasn’t having it.  “Ignore him,” Ron said, making Hermione laugh incredulously at him.

Her laughter turned into a gasp of surprise when Ron flipped their positions, so that he was laying over her on the expensive carpet that decorated the floor of his office.

“Ron,” Hermione said, sounding scandalized as she pushed at his shoulder. “There’s someone out there.”

“If we’re real quiet he’ll go away,” Ron whispered, and then leaned down to bury his face in the curve of her neck. Hermione started giggling when he licked and bit softly at her ear. “Shhh!”

“General Weasley, sir?”

Ron growled, lifting his head reluctantly. “There better be Death Eaters in the middle of this camp, solider!”

“Pretty close, sir.”

“Bugger.”

Ron rolled off Hermione and jumped to his feet. He ran both hands through his mused hair and then brushed at his trousers. Hermione had got an instant reaction from him and he didn’t need the soldiers taking the piss out on him for it, so he deliberately looked away from Hermione. He’d stay hard all night if he kept thinking about her spread out on the floor of his office.

“Ron, he’s waiting.”

Ron turned back to Hermione, giving her a look. “Give me a second, yeah?”

Hermione was getting to her feet, but she started giggling and stumbled into him. Her arms wrapped around his waist as she rested her forehead against his back. “Having issues, General.”

“Yes,” he whispered, wiggling out of her grasp. “Stop touching me.”

Hermione laughed harder, making her cheeks flush more as she covered her mouth. “I’m sorry. It’s not funny.”

“No, it isn’t.”

Hermione laughed harder, choking in her effort to hold it back when Ron turned to glare at her again. “I’m sorry. I’m not laughing.”

“Yes, you are,” Ron said, his shoulders shaking in an effort to hold back his own laughter, but it was impossible. He placed his hands over his eyes. “God, sometimes I hate my job. They can’t wipe their arses without me telling them how to do it.”

“I thought they were expertly trained.”

“General Weasley?”

Hermione shrieked with laughter and Ron finally gave up and opened the door to stare at the young private who was blushing to the roots of his blonde hair. “I’m not happy, private.”

“I know, sir,” he said solemnly. “They told to me to come get you.”

Ron opened the door further so the private could see Hermione, who was making a valiant effort to stop giggling. “Do you know who this woman is?”

“Yes, that’s Miss Granger, sir.” the private said, swallowing nervously as he looked at Hermione. “She’s head of the Magical Warfare Coalition.”

“She’s also my girlfriend and she’s lovely, isn’t she?”

“Oh, yes, sir!”

Ron arched an eyebrow at him. “You could be a little less enthusiastic about that.”

The private lowered his eyes, blushing deeper. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“Ron, stop badgering that poor boy!”

Ron ignored Hermione, still glaring at the private. “Now, if you were me and you had a lovely girlfriend who risked her pretty neck just to come see you on Christmas, what would you do? Would you stay here with her or go out into the ruddy cold with you?”

The private looked genuinely perplexed, obviously unsure of what the correct answer was. “Um. . . ”

“Why don’t you ask me what I think?”

“Because I’m asking the private what he thinks.”

“I think,” Hermione said, as she walked to the door and handed Ron his cloak. “That you should stop torturing this fine young soldier and go see what’s going on before I’m forced to write you up.”

“Ha!” Ron laughed and clapped the private on the shoulder. “I’m going to give you free advice. Never date a woman with power, lad. It goes right to their heads.”

“I’ll see you later, Ronald,” Hermione said as she stood on her toes and gave Ron a quick peck on the lips. “Go be a General.”

Ron waggled his eyebrows at the private. “She calls me Ronald in bed too.”

Hermione swatted his shoulder, before she turned to the private and kissed his cheek. “Happy Christmas, Private. It was nice meeting you.”

“Oh,” he said, flashing Hermione a brilliant smile. “It was nice meeting you too.”

“Hey,” Ron said, smacking the back of the private’s head lightly. “Don’t look so bloody happy. She’d kiss a toad if she thought it’d make her Minister of Magic.”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

Hermione leaned over and whispered conspiratorially to the private. “I kiss him and between you and me the toad would be an improvement.”

“That hurts, Hermione!”

“Not nearly as much as it should, Ronald,” Hermione snapped at him. “Now go before you make me angry.”

“Fine,” Ron said, and hastily pulled on his cloak. “Will you wait for me?”

“I’m not thrilled about the toad comment,” Hermione said, arching an annoyed eyebrow at him.

He winced. “I’m sorry.”

“Goodbye,” she said and then closed the door in their faces.

Ron just shook his head as he worked at the buttons of his cloak. “See what I’m saying, private, straight to their heads. She just kicked me out of my own bloody office.”

“It’s my office,” Hermione snapped at him from behind the closed door. “I’m the one who signed the paper giving it to you and I’m the one who can take it away.”

“Take it!” Ron yelled back. “It’s a bitch to set up. I’d be better off with a barracks tent.”

“That can be arranged!”

Ron turned around and left without saying anything else. The private was right at his heels as they walked out of his tent and into the snow. “I think she’s mad at you, sir.”

“What?” Ron said, running a hand through his hair that was already wet. He shivered as he looked around at the camp that was buried several inches in the snow that didn’t seem to want to stop falling. “Christ, it’s cold.”

“Miss Granger. She seemed really angry.”

“Oh, lad, that’s nothing,” Ron said, unable to stop himself from smirking. “You should see her when she’s really angry. We’d be running out of there our balls in our hands. What you saw in there was nothing but foreplay.”

The private laughed. “If you say so, sir.”

Ron laughed with him for a second, before he finally sighed and got serious. “Now tell me what’s the emergency.”

“There’s more Death Eaters coming in from the north, sir.”

Ron nodded. “Right then, if they want to fuck with us on Christmas then we’re going to show them a holiday. We make the rules, isn’t that right, private?”

“Yes, sir!”

 


End file.
